


Stealing Away

by Kalira



Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Brothers, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Harlock is still a legendary pirate, Isola can be decent, M/M, Nami is ninety percent of his impulse control, Protectiveness, Yama is a fluffy botanist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-17 16:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Yama may only have been able to wish he was spending this evening with his pirate Captain rather than his brother's distinguished guests. . . But he certainly didn't expect his lover to actually show uphere!





	Stealing Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [an anon Mousie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=an+anon+Mousie).



> So the request that inspired this story was not remotely for an AU - it was actually quite simple - Mousie, I hope you don't mind. Yama had an image, and then a little slew of plot, and I couldn't help but run with it! Request line was from this [angsty-ish dialogue prompt list](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/post/168224380286/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-line-of-dialogue-and-ill), and I don't know how angsty this is at all either . . . oops. >.>
> 
> Original request [here](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/post/168839520929/how-about-please-come-get-me-for-either).

Yama peeked around the corner over the balustrade and into the already-crowded entrance hall. He shuddered and pulled back before anyone could see him. It was mostly Isola’s comrades - a handful were likely his superiors, and quite a few were one or two ranks below him - and some of Nami’s higher society friends. Some few of them had been here all afternoon and Yama was already tiring of speaking the polite nonsense required.

No one from Yama’s friends at university - the few he had made there - would be in attendance, of course. Not on a night like tonight.

Yama darted back down the hallway before either Isola or Nami could see him and encourage him to come downstairs and mingle. He would go back down soon enough, and he wouldn’t be late, but. . .

He opened the telecomm box and withdrew the fist-sized globe within, smiling faintly as it glowed blue. He wouldn’t have time to send a proper message to Harlock later, though it was the night he usually would, so he would at least steal a chance _now_.

Yama shut himself in a cupboard only a few steps down the corridor for privacy, with a smile at a passing maid as he shut the door on a view of her startled face.

“Harlock.” Yama said softly, keeping his lover and Harlock’s ship, the Arcadia, rich in his mind, letting the telecomm pick up on it with a whirr. It was a familiar instruction, and the blue glow shaded deeper, then bright again rapidly, confirming it was ready.

Yama rubbed his thumb over the globe and began to speak, explaining why his message was early, and short. He sighed, glancing at the door as he spoke, promising he would send a longer message later, vaguely able to hear the conversation from the floor below and knowing he should return. “I wish I was with you tonight instead.” he said, rubbing his thumb over the globe again. _Please come get me_ , he thought wistfully. “Be safe, Harlock. I love you.” he said, then tapped the globe with his two middle fingers. “End message.”

The globe whirred obediently, the blue glow brightening through a shade of purple to almost white, then returning to a shade only slightly brighter than it had been.

Yama frowned, but climbed out of the cupboard and returned the globe to the telecomm box so it could transmit his message. It chirped quietly and began to whirr, the glow flaring in waves as it processed Yama’s message and sent it on to Harlock on board the Arcadia. He closed the box and turned to head downstairs.

When he made it down Nami greeted him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and Yama bowed as he was introduced to a new friend of hers, letting the small group of ladies monopolise him for a time. One of the younger ladies fluttered her fan flirtatiously at him, peeking at him over its lace edge, and Yama carefully didn’t meet her gaze, offering a hand to Lady Greenwhistle, who smiled and accepted it, allowing him to lead her into the cleared space for dancing as the song grew faster.

He danced through two songs with her, and then one with Admiral Greenwhistle when she begged the tiredness of her feet, which was slightly more nerve-wracking, before being claimed back by Nami. She wrinkled her nose at him playfully and Yama grinned, spinning her around a little quicker than was proper and making her laugh.

Yama intended to slip away for a break himself when Nami returned to his brother - Isola inclined his head to Yama, and he ducked a shallow bow in response - but was cornered and wound up dancing with several more ladies and two lieutenants before he could make his escape.

He propped himself against a wall halfway behind a potted tree - he patted it fondly; it was one of his, proven, if he dared be so proud, by its impressive health and size - and wished that he had water or juice rather than champagne punch. Not enough, however, to go looking any further for it. Especially not when venturing out again would likely invite being snagged into another conversation, or a dance, and Yama really just wanted to catch his breath and have a few minutes to himself if he could.

It had been a long day, with some of his brother’s guests already here for most of it and the preparations for the evening ahead busying the entire house.

In his quiet nook Yama managed to go unnoticed until he’d finished his punch, and he sighed, looking at the empty glass. He put on a polite smile and emerged from his hiding place. He put the glass aside on the next empty tray that passed by and invited a younger soldier to dance, hiding his amusement as the man flushed pink, then bowed his acceptance.

It wasn’t long after their single dance together that dinner was served and the man slipped away with an awkward almost-kiss to Yama’s hand at which he had to smother his laughter. While Yama couldn’t escape his dinner companions, at least he was only expected to converse with those at table with him, and couldn’t be snagged by anyone else. And he knew Commandant Hirailt fairly well; a no-nonsense sort of woman, she always had interesting stories from her posts at the far edges of the world. The other few people nearby were new to Yama - or at least, not familiar enough for him to remember from prior events.

One of them was eager to hear the Commandant’s stories, particularly, he explained, as he was assigned to a ship that would soon be sent out on one of the routes she had been through multiple times. His questions and the Commandant’s stories monopolised most of dinner, which was otherwise uneventful. But at least the conversation was interesting.

Really, Yama was almost sorry when it was eventually time to rise and return to the main hall. More free mingling, more dancing, and certainly no opportunity to escape upstairs to his rooms. Even if he could slip away unseen - he probably could, if he put his mind to it, though it was probable his absence would be noted by Isola or Nami, at least - he would feel guilty if he left early.

It wasn’t long before Yama was regretting that, as he cleared his throat and glanced to one side, looking for . . . his brother, possibly, or Nami, or anyone else who might come and join this conversation or try to draw him away. Unfortunately there was no one nearby who was paying any attention to him - except Captain Tirragen, who was rather too close and paying rather too _much_ attention.

“Pardon me, Captain-” Yama began, smiling politely at the man. He fell silent with a sigh, shoulders slumping slightly, as he was interrupted again.

Then he stiffened, eyes widening, as Captain Tirragen caught his hand, drawing him closer and rubbing a gloved thumb over the back of Yama’s hand. “Pardon, _Captain_ ,” Yama said a little more firmly, flexing his fingers, “but I believe I see my brother’s wife asking for me.”

“I’m sure she can wait for a few minutes.” Captain Tirragen coaxed, stroking Yama’s knuckles again. “After all, we were speaking.”

Yama wished Nami really _was_ trying to get his attention - or was somewhere close enough he could successfully pretend she was for long enough to extract himself from this corner. “I suppose so.” he replied politely, keeping his resigned sigh internal.

“I wished to issue you an invitation, Yama.” Captain Tirragen said, taking half a step closer, and Yama’s brows rose. _Invitation?_ “I’m sure it must . . . stifle, being here, staying in your brother’s house - remaining with your brother’s wife when he’s out on patrols or summoned by the admiralship.”

Yama resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of all the problems or boredom he might face, spending time with Nami was certainly no hardship - and sharing his brother’s house, _their parents’_ house, was hardly difficult either. Isola might be domineering, but this was Yama’s home as well and Isola had never tried to flatly forbid anything he did here, whatever their arguments.

“They are my family.” Yama reminded pointedly, with a pleasant smile as he twisted his hand. That had been verging upon rudeness on the captain’s part.

“All the same.” Captain Tirragen pressed on, evidently undaunted, renewing his hold on Yama. “I would be delighted to have you on board my ship.” Yama stiffened, bringing his chin up a little in his surprise. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the ways of ships, with your brother, but the Othello is quite impressive if I do say so myself,” he nearly smirked, and Yama’s lips curved faintly as he thought of the Arcadia, “and you might enjoy a tour. Or even a small trip?” he invited. “You would be more than welcome to stay on board,” Captain Tirragen paused, giving a slow, warm smile, “with me.”

“Really, thank you,” Yama said awkwardly, with a fleeting attempt at a smile, tugging at his hand to try and get it free of Captain Tirragen’s grip once more, “but I would rather stay with my plants, you see.”

The grip tightened and Yama winced. It didn’t quite hurt - although it was a little firmer than necessary, to be sure - but he’d hoped to extract himself. Properly, this time, perhaps even allowing for him slip away - or at least move far enough to be out of immediate reach - before the captain could grab hold of him again.

“I’m certain that you would enjoy coming with me.” Captain Tirragen said, leaning closer to Yama as he tipped his head back, stopping just short of leaning away. “You would be most comfortable on my ship. I would ensure it _personally_.” He smiled.

A firm hand settled on Yama’s shoulder, and he jumped as it tightened there.

“I think Yama has already made his feelings on the matter clear.” It was a smooth, confident voice, technically polite but rather pointed. It was also-

Eyes wide, Yama turned around to see Harlock at his back. “Har-” he broke off before he could say the _very recognisable_ name. Of his _very recognisable_ lover.

“I’m sorry,” Captain Tirragen said dryly, “I do not believe we have met.” He released Yama’s hand to hold his own out towards Harlock pointedly.

“What are you doing here?” Yama asked, though he couldn’t help a smile as he turned a little more towards Harlock, moving closer.

Harlock’s hand slid from his shoulder to wrap around his back, drawing him into an embrace, and Yama accepted it happily, leaning into him for a moment as Harlock looked beyond him to Captain Tirragen, expression dark. “No, we have not.” he said, glancing up and down the other man disdainfully, and Yama dipped his head slightly to hide a laugh against Harlock’s high collared cape.

Harlock’s hand almost idly drew up and down Yama’s lower back, knuckles rubbing against his spine through the layers of his dress clothing. Yama snorted quietly and lifted his head from Harlock’s shoulder, then paused. Harlock was still wearing his dramatically coloured - and cut - cape, complete with _the skull and crossbones pins on both sides of the collar_. Yama raised one hand towards the nearer one in disbelief.

“He was being,” Harlock’s eyebrow arched as he released Yama, with a glance over his shoulder where - Yama looked around - it seemed Captain Tirragen had now disappeared from, “quite rude. Are you all right?” Harlock asked, brushing Yama’s cheek with his fingertips.

“Harlock!” Yama whispered urgently, hand splaying over Harlock’s cape just shy of where one pin held the collar’s point down. “There are . . . at least _seventeen pirate hunters_ in this room! And my brother!” he added, waving his hand and looking around worriedly. “What are you doing here?”

Harlock shrugged, his cape billowing gently around his body - one of the skull-and-crossbones pins glinted in the light with the movement. “You asked me to come and get you.” Harlock said, and Yama startled, blinking up at him, distracted.

“I what?” Yama said, then shook his head. “No, I didn’t ask you-” He stifled a wordless yell and covered his mouth with one hand for a moment. “You didn’t even try and disguise yourself? Were you in such a hurry? Did you think I was being _kidnapped_?”

“That man,” Harlock lifted his jaw and raised an eyebrow, “might have liked to try it.”

Yama snorted. “He might have liked to sweep me off, but he wouldn’t do it without my permission, even if he tried to press me for it.” He tilted his head towards the balcony where Isola had been last he’d seen. “I doubt he’d find much favour with the navy if my brother was angry with him.” he added in a low voice. And while Isola might be pleased if Yama chose to go with Captain Tirragen - he’d never mentioned the man, Yama didn’t know if they were even personally acquainted - he would certainly not approve of any too-zealous inroads against Yama’s good nature. And Isola was not prone to restraining his disapproval.

Harlock huffed, eyes narrowing, and crossed his arms. Yama smothered a smile. “I am perfectly safe - I _was_ perfectly safe.” Which Harlock might _not_ be, good grief Harlock was still wearing most of his usual clothes, from the cape on down, save the usual shirt emblazoned with a skull and crossbones. Though he only wore one of his belts, the buckle etched with the same Jolly Roger that his ship flew - the gravity sabre it supported at his hip was honestly less worrying, many of the men carried swords of some kind, and Harlock’s didn’t _look_ much more threatening even though it _was_. “I’m concerned that _you_ may not be.” he added, running his fingers up Harlock’s stomach from the crest of one hip.

Harlock’s lips quirked. “I’ll do my best not to attract any attention.” he said, the backs of his fingers brushing over Yama’s hand and wrist.

Yama gave him a flat look. Harlock attracted attention by _existing_ , he stood out wherever he went except the Arcadia, where by contrast he seemed to be the only person that _truly_ fit on board the haunted ship.

“Trust me, Yama.” Harlock coaxed, and Yama sighed, looking at the ceiling for a moment.

“I _do_.” Yama said, fighting a smile. “Just . . . be careful, please, all right?” He bit his lip and looked briefly for his brother again. “I don’t want. . .”

“I will.” Harlock promised, twining his fingers through Yama’s and bringing his hand up to brush a feathery kiss over his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isola inclined his head to the Admiral, straightening as he walked away, returning down the stairs from the balcony where they had retreated for a more private conversation. Isola took up a fresh glass of wine and looked around, smiling as he found Nami returning to his side and holding out a hand to his wife.

She leaned up to kiss his cheek and then looked out over the guests on the floor below with him. Isola wrapped an arm around her, sipping his wine.

He frowned. “Who is that with Yama?” he said quietly, eyes fixing on a tall, slender figure with unkempt hair and a long red and black cloak. His eyes narrowed as the man turned, revealing his face - though not _much_ of it, behind his hair - and showing a large, gnarled scar slashed across it. “Is that. . .” he trailed off.

“It appears,” Nami said gently, resting her hand on Isola’s, “to be Yama’s boyfriend, dear.”

The tall, dark man below wrapped an arm around Yama’s shoulders and tipped his head down, a smile curling his lips as Yama spoke. When he lifted his head again, his expression cleared and he looked across the hall, putting his profile on display.

Isola’s eyes widened. “No. . . There’s no way- He looks like-”

“I think he’s a merchant.” Nami said, patting Isola’s chest lightly. “Oh, they’re dancing together. Isn’t that sweet, dear?” she asked, tipping her head to rest on his shoulder.

“No, but. . .” Isola frowned, watching his brother step close into the embrace of the taller man, allowing himself to be turned and moved towards the centre of the dance floor. He was seemingly content tucked close against the man’s chest. His scar looked familiar, and now, as he moved a little faster, Isola saw he was wearing a dark eyepatch.

. . .there was _no way_ -

Nami tugged his hand, moving away. “Come and dance with me, dear.” she said coaxingly, pulling, and Isola protested, looking back at his brother and his current dance partner, but . . . allowed his wife to have her way, following her down to the dance floor himself.

They didn’t come near Yama and his . . . boyfriend, but Isola asked Nami, who seemed less surprised than she _should_ have to see the man with Yama.

Nami smiled and shook her head and refused to answer him with anything more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yama cast another slightly worried glance over the room, licking his lips, keeping an eye out for anyone who might seem like they’d realised _who was standing in their midst_ after Harlock had just . . . walked through the crowd. He shook his head faintly, half disbelieving.

“Shall we dance?”

Yama stilled, then turned to look at his lover, eyes widening. He . . . had _not_ expected to hear that. Harlock smiled at him, taking a step back and drawing Yama gently after him by their clasped hands.

Yama hesitated, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks. Harlock cocked his head inquisitively and Yama nodded happily, moving closer to Harlock and letting his lover lead him out among the array of dancing couples.

Harlock turned gracefully, his cape flicking out around him with the ragged hem falling just shy of their closest companions in the cleared dancing area, and Yama stepped in towards him easily. Harlock slid one arm around his waist and twined their fingers more closely as he lifted Yama’s other hand in his own, keeping them close.

Yama smiled, following Harlock’s gentle guidance through a half-turn even as he settled his free hand on his lover’s shoulder. Harlock smiled back at him, and Yama would probably have denied the happy flutter in his chest if anyone asked, but he basked in the feeling of dancing with Harlock.

He had never seen Harlock dance before, but as much as he . . . wouldn’t exactly picture it suiting Harlock, neither was it a surprise that he did it well. Yama let Harlock direct their steps and relaxed a little more, paying less attention to the people around them - nobody seemed distressed, much less to have _recognised_ Harlock. Why shouldn’t he let himself enjoy dancing with his lover, then?

Yama flushed lightly as Harlock guided him through a turn and then brought him close again, their bodies brushing as Harlock moved around him. Harlock murmured almost in his ear and Yama ducked his head, but slipped closer still in his lover’s arms, and Harlock’s hand on his waist slid to his back, lightly pressing as they drifted through another easy spin.

Harlock was smiling at him, close and warm. Yama resisted the urge to lean up and kiss him, and flushed a little more deeply at the thought, silently scolding himself.

“Yama?” Harlock spoke quietly, and Yama cleared his throat, shaking his head and smiling at his lover, squeezing their clasped hands. Harlock’s eyebrow rose a fraction, but he didn’t question Yama further, fingers brushing up and down his spine at his lower back.

Yama’s breath caught on a laugh as Harlock playfully leaned him back, though not a proper dip. Harlock gave him a roguish smile, though it was gone in half a moment and likely would have been missed by anyone else, then pulled him back up and straight into a turn as the music began to slow for the next song.

“Come with me, darling.” Harlock said quietly, winding his gloved fingers between Yama’s and drawing him towards the door. Yama hesitated, because he knew he should stay, but he let his eyes stray over the guests and then back at his lover. . .

Yama followed Harlock towards the door, and out to the street, smiling.

Harlock’s cape billowed around his legs and flicked at Yama’s own as their pace quickened down the stairs. Yama laughed as Harlock pulled him onwards, and Harlock looked back at him with a smile, mischief lit in his single eye.

No one was coming after them - Yama wasn’t sure anyone had even seen them leave - but they broke into a run anyway, threading deeper into the city but heading recognisably towards the docks. Yama’s smile broadened and he squeezed his lover’s hand happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isola paused, mouth pursing thoughtfully, then unbuttoned the last few buttons of his uniform coat, sliding it off. “I am _sure_ that man who was with Yama tonight-” he broke off. Isola was _not_ sure - he couldn’t be sure, not with Yama acting as he had with the man. And why would the most legendary pirate captain in the world be attending - _dancing_ at - a party hosted by the Praefectus of the Gaia Coalition? “He _looked_ like-”

“I know he looks a little rough around the edges,” Name said, coming up behind him and letting her hands rest on his hips, “but Yama is clearly very fond of him, dear.” she said, leaning against his back.

Isola looked at her in the mirror, frowning. Nami laughed softly, kissing his neck. “And you know better than most, my dear, how dangerous sailing can be, even for the captain of a simple trading vessel.” she pointed out, almost sounding wheedlesome.

Nami stepped away, unpinning the cameo around her neck. Isola huffed and followed after her, helping her to unfasten her dress. “You expect me to believe,” he said, close against her nape, “that Yama’s . . . sweetheart is a simple trader? Looking like _that_?”

“Isola . . . I know you had different hopes for him,” Nami said, turning to face him, her dress falling loose around her shoulders, “but I think by now it is clear that Yama is never going to follow in your footsteps.”

Isola sighed. That had been obvious for some time, really . . . although Yama had said since he was a child that he wished to be a botanist, a scientist, like their mother. Isola had simply thought he would one day grow out of it; perhaps he should have known better. Unfortunately not only did it seem Yama had not, he . . . seemed almost disdainful of the soldiers Isola served with and commanded. Not _rudely_ so, but . . . distant.

“Nor,” Nami said, moving closer, and Isola lifted his arms to bring her against him, “do any of your fellow,” she paused, “officers seem to suit him, dear.”

Isola frowned, letting out a low breath. “Seemingly not.” he agreed. He would have been . . . pleased to allow his brother to go to one of his fellows, particularly if Yama _did_ insist on pure academics, studying plants and occasionally communications. He would be well looked after that way, and he could indulge his studies - and Isola wasn’t foolish enough to think they were useless ones, even if he wished his brother had chosen another path.

Nami leaned up and kissed him softly. “He seems happy, and his sweetheart seems quite devoted. Maybe you worry too much, dear.”

“Unlikely.” Isola said, frowning. Yama had always been impulsive and naïve and Isola was not precisely comfortable knowing nothing about a man - such a rough-looking man, as Nami had observed, _whatever_ she said she thought was behind his battered appearance - that Yama was seemingly so fond of.

“Let it be for now, my dear.” Nami coaxed, brushing her fingers along his cheek and then stepping away to slide her dress off properly.

Isola sighed and moved to help her, letting his wife coax him to leave his worries at least for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“When are you going to allow me to steal you away properly, darling?” Harlock asked, stretching his legs out a little more where he lounged at the edge of his bunk.

Yama twitched, fumbling the small enamelled pot he held and nearly dropping it. He put it back down before he could tip out the dirt nestled around the fragile, flowering plant inside and turned towards his lover. “I. . .” he began, then trailed off weakly. “My studies.”

“Are almost complete, are they not?” Harlock asked, tipping his head. “You are fully lettered in botany, and while you study further in communications and technology, those courses have been by choice, to occupy yourself, are they not?”

Yama opened his mouth, then closed it, letting out a breath and licking his lips. “True.” he admitted. He _did_ find them interesting, but it was also to keep him busy at the university, where he was more comfortable even if not any more particularly among friends, while Isola was busy with his duties and Nami with her own pursuits and her social circle - and aiding Isola with his connections. “My- My plants.” he gestured to the tiny plant he had just returned to Harlock’s bureau.

“Arcadia already has some of the requirements for a greenhouse to be installed,” Harlock said, and Yama ducked his head, “Tochiro would be amenable to making adjustments so that you might have everything you wish - everything we can provide on board a ship,” he amended wryly, “for your plants and your work.”

Yama hadn’t actually thought that would be. . . He loved working with his plants, but he had always assumed if ever he went to Harlock permanently he would be . . . rather limited in what he could do. He was touched Harlock had evidently not only thought of it but discussed it with his ship - his friend - merely in hopes Yama would be at home here someday.

At home. Yama’s heart stuttered briefly. “My brother, though. . .” he said regretfully.

Harlock threw his still-booted feet to the floor and rose, pacing a few steps. “If you do not _wish_ to join us, my love . . . I will not hold it against you.” He turned to look at Yama with a soft, earnest look, and Yama’s heart throbbed painfully. “The crew would welcome you - they like you,” he said with a crooked half-smile, “and I would. . .”

Harlock looked away and did not finish, and Yama’s heart throbbed again. He _knew_ Harlock would love it if he let his lover snatch him away to join the Arcadia permanently.

Harlock loved _him_ , as Yama adored Harlock in turn.

Yama brushed his fingers over the top of the low bureau and then moved to his lover, sliding his hands over Harlock’s shoulders and tugging gently to encourage him to turn.

Harlock looked at him, not quite hopeful, but . . . waiting.

Probably waiting to be refused. Yama wrapped his arms around Harlock, kissing his cheek and leaning into his body. Harlock returned the embrace quickly, hugging Yama close and leaning his head against Yama’s. “I do not mean to make you feel pressed, or to . . . give you a choice you do not wish to make.” Harlock said softly, almost against Yama’s ear.

Yama nuzzled against Harlock’s cheek, thinking of how he felt cradled here in Harlock’s tight embrace, warm and protected and cherished. How safe he had felt even in the middle of Isola’s compatriots surrounded by who knew how many men who would have _shot_ Harlock without hesitation, even right there, if they’d realised _who he was_ \- and he had hardly bothered to conceal himself when he made his way into the party, straight to Yama.

“I love you.” Yama said, leaning back just enough to meet Harlock’s gaze without loosening his own grip.

Harlock squeezed him tighter, giving a slightly bittersweet smile. “I love you, flower.” he said lightly.

Yama giggled at the petname Harlock had first called him, when he had been uncertain whether to be angered at it or not. Harlock’s sweet tones and caresses as he said it, and his charming manner - not to mention how . . . overwhelming Harlock could be - had kept Yama from protesting until he had come to find it rather endearing.

He unwrapped one arm from around Harlock’s waist and cupped his cheek, leaning in to kiss him, lingering and soft. “Harlock. . .” he began, and Harlock hummed, rubbing their noses together affectionately. Yama sighed, nuzzling back as his gaze unfocused. “I’ll . . . need time to pack up my lab . . . some of my greenhouse . . . and I’ll have to come up with _something_ to tell my brother, perhaps an extended fellowship. . .” He frowned thoughtfully, debating the merit of the excuse.

Harlock was still against him, and Yama looked up at his lover. His face was almost expressionless.

“Harlock?” he asked, and Harlock’s arms tightened suddenly around his waist, almost enough to ache - his breathing was a little shallow from the pressure. Harlock was so slender that even _knowing_ his strength with not-infrequent personal experience, Yama sometimes forgot the power of his rangy frame.

“You would come to me? To stay?” Harlock asked softly, and this time the look in his eye _was_ hopeful, raw and eager, the faintest hint of a smile beginning to show on his full mouth.

Yama stroked his cheek again, giving a gentle nuzzle and kissing Harlock. “I would.” he said, his lips curling playfully. “I would love to stay with you forever, Harlock.” he promised in a low voice as Harlock’s smile broadened.

Harlock kissed him hard, and Yama squeaked, then laughed against his mouth, melting into his lover’s embrace. “I love you.” Harlock said, barely pulling away enough to be heard before kissing Yama again. He moaned softly, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes and surrendered to the kiss, dropping his hand from Harlock’s face to cling to his belt instead.

Harlock gave a low rumbling sound, rich with pleasure and affection, and Yama nuzzled into his kiss. It was warm and sweet and fierce all at once, and Yama was a little dizzy, if happily so, at the intensity Harlock poured into it. That wasn’t unfamiliar, either. Yama smiled against Harlock’s mouth.

Harlock broke the kiss, and Yama leaned into him with a contented sigh. Harlock stroked Yama’s hair, finally loosening his embrace, and Yama responded by putting enough room between them to let his hands slide over Harlock’s chest appreciatively, wandering down to his hips and tugging him closer when he began to step away.

Harlock smiled and smoothed his hands over Yama’s back and up to cradle his shoulders, nudging his nose against Yama’s again with quiet affection. He tugged Yama gently into another kiss, softer this time, trailing a hand down his spine.

Yama cuddled into his arms, happily allowing Harlock to hold him close and delighting in the scattered kisses and the gentle, sweet caresses. Yama returned them by turns, content to be pressed close against his lover and safely tucked away with only Harlock for company, where he could relax.

He turned his face down into Harlock’s shoulder and stifled a yawn there, swaying on his feet.

Harlock steadied him with the arm snug around his waist. “For tonight,” he said quietly, brushing a kiss over Yama’s cheek, “get comfortable and stay with me?”

Yama smiled at the half-question and nodded. Harlock plucked lightly at Yama’s neatly-buttoned jacket, and Yama stretched a little and tugged at Harlock’s belt before releasing it to allow his lover to strip away the thick, heavy dress jacket. Harlock smoothed his hands over Yama’s shoulders as he peeled it away, then trailed them down to untuck his shirt and strip it off him as well.

Yama slipped free of Harlock’s hands to tug at his lover’s clothes in return, throwing him a playful look. Harlock smiled, letting him have his way.

The cape was easy enough to loosen, but by now Yama was familiar with Harlock’s complicated series of buckles and hidden fastenings, and even the trickier articles of his clothing didn’t take long to remove. Harlock gave a soft, contented murmur as Yama’s fingers wandered over his scarred skin, and took a little longer to finish the job of divesting Yama of his clothes.

Yama spared a moment to consider neatly laying out the fine clothes he’d been wearing as he watched his lover drop them aside, but couldn’t muster much concern for them.

Harlock tugged Yama into his arms, and Yama let himself be snagged with a low, pleased purr. Harlock kissed his neck and pulled Yama up into his arms, dropping him into the welcoming disarray of his lover’s bunk.

Yama pulled Harlock down after him, stretching into the pleasant weight of his lover coming to rest on top of him. Harlock smiled, holding Yama’s gaze, and Yama returned it as he reached up, feathering his fingers through Harlock’s hair to pull gently at the ties of his eye patch.

He bowed his head, eye closing as he allowed Yama to pull it free. He leaned up to kiss Harlock’s temple where one strap had rested, and he sighed before letting himself slide down to rest against Yama’s side.

Yama smoothed a hand down Harlock’s side, then wriggled loose enough to pull a duvet up over them both. Harlock pulled him back down promptly, and Yama laughed breathlessly as he flopped onto the mattress, a little harder than he’d expected. Harlock tucked his head almost down onto Yama’s shoulder, leaning against him, and Yama yawned, cuddling into his snug embrace.

Harlock reached up and gestured lazily, and the lights slowly dimmed down to almost nothing.

“I am pleased that you will be coming with me.” Harlock said into his shoulder, pressing a kiss to Yama’s collarbone.

Yama stroked Harlock’s side again. “I worried to see you there,” he said quietly, shivering at the thought, “but . . . I was happy that you came to,” he paused, amused, “save me this evening.”

Harlock laughed, rubbing his cheek against Yama’s shoulder. “Always, my love.” he promised, far more serious - for all his playful tone - than Yama’s ‘predicament’ at his brother’s event this evening had warranted.

**Author's Note:**

> Is anyone shocked that I also know how Harlock and Yama met and got together in this 'verse? >.>
> 
> Look me up on [Tumblr](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/) to say hello, watch me lose it over entirely too many fandoms, or request a story of your own!


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